Family Traditions
by Ciircee
Summary: Harry learns about a Weasley family tradition


Family Traditions

Dedications: To Chelle, whom else?

Disclaimer: Harry and co. belong to the most esteemed J.K. Rowlings, who has not given me permission to use her kids in any way, shape or form. Just as well, as I've made no money off of them. I sincerely hope nobody tries to sue me over this because that would be the height of stupidity.

Family Traditions

Voldemort was after him, chasing, close and murderous. A flash of blinding green light, a flash of pain through Harry's head and beside him somebody fell dead. Harry paused, ready to grab Cedric, but it wasn't Cedric at all. It was Ron.

Harry ran, leaving his broken and bleeding heart at the side of his best friend's broken body. He kept running until he tripped over a headstone, and was running still after that. Until he'd tripped over two more headstones far too close to the first to actually _be_ headstones. Not a cemetery then, Harry decided. Then, yes, a cemetery; another flash of brilliant green had illuminated the things that Harry had been tripping over. Bodies. All the people who'd ever cared about Harry, loved him, befriended him, simply _known_ him were strewn on the cold grass. Hermione, Mr. Weasley, Colin Creevey, the twins, Cho Chang, Ginny, Professor _Dumbledore_, everybody. And behind him, Harry heard a high cold laugh and felt a hand grab him roughly by the shoulder. Voldemort had him! Was shaking him cruelly, even as Harry fought to free himself. The Dark Lord was calling his name over and over…

"Harry! Ouch! Harry, would you bloody watch it, you great git!" Harry blinked, wondering why Voldemort wanted to call him a git instead of kill him. "Are you awake now?" Not Voldemort. Not unless Voldemort was a Weasley, anyway. Ron. Harry sat up, pulling his glasses on as he did so. Through the pushed back curtains of his bed, he could see the fifth year dormitory. Not a killing field, then. He was safe, at home at Hogwarts. He was safe. He managed one shuddering breath.

"Alright then, Harry?"

"Yeah. Yeah, Ron, I'm okay. I'm fine." And he _was_. He would be. He settled back down into bed. Just fine. "Just fine." He smiled weakly. "A nightmare, that's all."

"Hmph." Ron turned back to his own bed. "Budge over there then, Harry."

"Wha--?" Ron had grabbed his own pillow and tossed it beside Harry's. Harry automatically slid over. Ron flopped down in the bed on his stomach and tugged the duvet over himself.

"Goodnight." Sliding his arms under this pillow, Ron snuggled firmly down into Harry's bed and closed his eyes. "Sleep well."

He appeared, to Harry, to be falling asleep.

Effortlessly.

Harry rolled onto his own stomach and peered closely at his friend's face. Yes, Ron was definitely falling asleep. Was, actually, most likely asleep even as Harry stared at him. "Ron?"

"Shhhh." Ron flung out one long arm and patted Harry gently on the back between the shoulder blades. "S'alright now Harry." Ron's hand stayed, limp and heavy with sleep, on Harry's back. Harry blinked.

"Ron? Ron, it was just a dream. You can--" This, at least, seemed to have gotten a response; a wide yawn and an owlish blink.

"You," Ron told him, pushing himself up on his arms, "are interrupting a Weasley family tradition. Go to sleep, Harry." Ron flopped back down. Discussion, most apparently, ended.

"I'm not…" Harry began, but what he was going to say, he didn't know. The image from his dream, of that killing field, was burning in his brain. A residual, phantom pulse of pain throbbed through his scar. Everybody…

Ron's hand went from Harry's back to the back of his head and shoved it firmly back into his pillow. "Don't be a brainless prat." Ron sighed and opened his eyes. "You just had a screaming nightmare and scared ten years off of me. I'm staying. You're staying. Go to sleep."

They lay, breathing quietly in the darkness.

"Ron?" The dark was pressing in on Harry, pressing in hard. "Tell me about this tradition." Just talk, Harry thought.

"Ungh…" Ron ran one hand over his face. One blue eye blinked at Harry, the other remained hidden in his pillow. "Let's see. Hm. Well, it started with Bill and Charlie and worked its way down from there. It moves down, oldest to youngest, it does."

"What does?"

"Bill, he's only got a few years on Charlie, they shared a room when they were little, see? About the time that Charlie came along was about the time that Bill was old enough to have bad dreams. And so Bill, when he had a bad dream, he'd just crawl in with Charlie. Right into the cradle with him." Ron's smile widened suddenly. "Dad says that Granddad said that Mick and Bilibus, my Dad's oldest brothers, used to do that same thing. Mick would crawl in with Bilibus in the middle of the night, so that he wouldn't wake up Grandma and Granddad."

"But you didn't have a nightmare, Ron." Harry said, feeling guilty. "You shouldn't have gotten up." The hand on the back of Harry's head delivered a gentle slap before falling away.

"You're missing the point, so shut it and let me get on with the telling." Ron grinned and Harry grinned reluctantly back. "Anyway, eventually Charlie got old enough to have night terrors, and so Bill, seeing as how they shared a room, would crawl in with him. So that he wouldn't be alone, see? And well, eventually Percy and Fred and George came along, didn't they? And whenever somebody woke up frightened, somebody else would bunk in with them. Keep the bad dreams off."

"But I'm not…and you…" Harry stared.

"Be glad you're not me, at that!" Ron laughed quietly. "I had both Fred and George wedging in with me and they're both bed-hogs. George steals all the sheets." Ron considered. "Well, it wasn't all bad. They usually made me laugh and forget all about whatever I dreamed. Thought that bloody spider-teddy had Percy and Charlie bunking in with me for months."

Harry closed his eyes and tried to think about that. He did feel better with Ron beside him, keeping him company. "So, does it work? Like, all the time?" Harry wondered aloud.

"It must." Ron said into his own pillow. "There's the seven of us and Dad was one of eleven. We've all lived through it."

"Eleven?" To Harry, who'd grown up invisible in the Dursley's only-child household, it seemed like a great many children. A lot of fun, too.

"That," Ron said authoritatively, "is also a Weasley family tradition." He smirked. "All close together too. 'Mione's not going to be happy with that, I'd wager."

"Hermione?" Faintly.

"Yeah, her career's gonna be real important to her. Heh, she'll probably be fighting Percy for 'Minister of Magic'. Oh, what a great, horrible brawl that'll be." Ron chuckled and rolled onto his back, hands behind his head. "And Perce, he'll be saying, 'You've got to support one of us, Ron' and I'll be ignoring them both. I'm not stupid enough to get into the middle of _that_ battle. Hmm. With six or seven kids, though, 'Mione will have her hands full. Oh, well. She'll manage us all, it's what she's good at, isn't it? Remember that Time thing she had?"

Harry nodded slowly, staring unblinkingly at Ron. "You…and Hermione?"

Ron nodded. "I _fancy_ her, Harry." He turned to look Harry in the eye. " I don't know for how long, but oh, do I." 

Harry went on blinking and gaping. He managed to find his voice again. "The Yule Ball. Since then, at least." He informed Ron, still stunned. 

Ron pondered that bit of information. "I suppose so. No wonder I was so off my nut about Krum. Damn fine seeker." He nodded authoritatively.

Harry nudged his friend in the ribs. "Pay attention. The important thing…you and Hermione? You're…" Harry trailed off, uncertainly.

"No." Ron said, cheerfully. "But as I said, I fancy her and I reckon she fancies me too. The Yule Ball and all." Ron's cheerful grin widened. "She could have just said."

Harry ignored that bit, as there was no point in rehashing the fact that Hermione had basically said something of the sort and Ron had just been an idiot. "So. You've never told Hermione that you have _those_ kinds of feelings, but you're already planning out her career and a half dozen kids?"

"Mmm. 'Mione will be lovely when she's carrying, she will." Ron murmured dreamily. 

Harry felt slightly goggle-eyed. "You've thought about _that_ too?"

Ron nodded and then convulsed with a sudden fit of wild laughter, muffled by the pillow that he'd suddenly pulled over his face. "Harry!" He gasped after a moment. "Harry, remind me to tell her that! When 'Mione's huge with one baby and carting about a couple of toddlers, remind me to tell her that I've always thought of her that way. She'll go mad!"

"She'll _kill_ you!" Harry gasped, appalled and already planning to remind Ron to say it. What were friends for, after all?

"Oh, she'll try alright. Think she'll haul off and slap me, like she did Malfoy?" Ron sounded entirely entranced by the idea. Harry blinked rapidly.

"You've gone 'round the bend."

"Oh, I probably have." Ron admitted. " I'm in deep for _'Mione_, after all. But her eyes are just glorious when she's spitting mad." He arched one eyebrow at Harry. "Why do you think I keep spatting with her?"

"Well, seeing as how we're friends, and in the interest of saving you're life, I hope you tell _her_ that when she tries to take your head for a trophy."

Ron nodded sagely, studying the ceiling. "I think I just might. You'll be Godfather, won't you Harry?"

Harry smiled, and let himself drift. "Will you name one after me?"

"Sure." Ron smiled magnanimously. "Hermione'd insist on it anyway."

"Oh, thanks." Harry said sarcastically. Ron laughed and shoved at his shoulder. "Well, yes, in that case. I will." A sudden thought of his own godfather occurred to him. "Wait. If something happened, wouldn't I have to take in…how many were you planning, again?"

Ron shrugged sleepily. "Six or so. You'll be able to handle them fine. They'll fit right in with your twelve."

Harry was falling asleep, lulled by the companionship and the conversation. "Oh. Well that's okay." He yawned. "Hey!"

"Hay is for horses." Ron said, his own lids drooping.

"I don't even _like_ any girls right now. Why am I suddenly having a dozen kids?"

"You're a Weasley. I thought we went over this whole tradition thing."

"I'm not a real Weasley!"

Ron frowned. "Sure you are. You're probably the best brother I've got Harry. 'Specially since it took eleven years to find you and bring you home proper."

Harry found himself blinking back tears. "Ron…you can't. I'm too…Voldemort, Ron!" 

"Don't say his name. And what? Not saying it wouldn't change things. What's coming is coming, Harry. You said so yourself. And your friends are going to stand with you. So's you're family. That'd be us Weasleys, and Hermione and Sirius and Dumbledore and the list goes on."

"No, Ron…it's too dangerous."

Ron ignored that. "Shush now and go to sleep. Think of something pleasant. Like all the kids you'll be adding to the family." He grinned conspiratorially. "I like to think of the fit 'Mione'll pitch when I tell her that family size is practically a _disease_ with the Weasleys."

Harry shook himself and tried to concentrate on something pleasant. The family he'd have one day and the family he was already, apparently, a part of. "Wait, why am I having twelve when you're only having six?"

"Hmmm." Ron was nearly asleep again. "Well, your Weasley-obligated six or so, add that to Ginny's lot of seven or more and you get an even dozen at least. Probably more." Ron buried his head under his pillow. "Like I said, you'll not even notice my six in with yours."

But…"GINNY!" Harry nearly fell out of bed, saved only by Ron's sudden catch on his pajamas. "Ron! I--I'm not and well….then…and…and…Ginny!"

"Harry, Ginny's persistent and she's set on you." Ron nestled more firmly into the blankets. "I love Gin, and she's a good sort. I suppose if anybody's going to, well--hum, you know--it might as well be my best mate." Ron yawned. "Night."

Harry mulled over what Ron had just said. Shell-shocked, dead tired and slightly frantic, Harry realized that Ron had, essentially, given him permission to marry his sister. Which meant handholding, and dating, and kissing, and that sort of thing. Harry, who'd never even thought of _thinking_ of Ginny Weasley in such a way was suddenly presented with a whole new world of things to think on.

"Ron…" Still reeling, Harry started to argue.

"Shhh."

He decided to go a different route. "Ron, you don't have to stay here. I'm fine now."

"Tradition, Harry. I'll stay 'til dawn. Go to sleep."

Harry settled in to sleep, listening to the night sounds of home and of his friend. There was something to be said for family traditions. With images of myopic, redheaded Potter's filling his mind, Harry sank into a sleep filled with pleasant dreams for a change.


End file.
